


Various Homestuck poetry

by bannanachan



Category: MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:47:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bannanachan/pseuds/bannanachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What it says on the tin. I enrolled in an Intro to Poetry class at school and whenever I ran out of inspiration for a prompt, I just used fandom. Figured I might as well post them here rather than just on tumblr. Will continue updating with new poems in new chapters if I ever write more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Character quatrains in meter

John Egbert  
Without the wind, we’d have no breath.  
Without the touch of movement in  
the air, we would go stale and pass,  
I think: although we might not know.

Davesprite  
Time is cruel, the hour too late to  
make amends or change a thing. But  
still he struggles, carves his mark and  
won’t be swept away again.

Rose Lalonde  
Shatter your paradise, hero: deny the light.  
Let it be done with and rise alone. Do not be  
ruined by anyone, other than you, and breed  
lilacs in daylight that you alone conjure up.

Jade Harley  
Beneath the snow, life waits for summer’s old pull,  
for the witch to awake and reverse this dull spell  
that keeps rivers from flowing and muffles the frogs.  
It is patient for now, but won’t idle for long.

Jane Crocker  
They say you will inherit all someday.  
You will receive your glory, if you wait.  
You’d wait a lifetime twice if only it would  
work, but you must will your way to happiness.

Dirk Strider  
You never meant to be this way with him  
but here you are. Too bad, because he never  
meant to lie to you or do a thing but love.  
You wish it could be different; it’s not.

Mom Lalonde (beta universe Roxy Lalonde)  
She has your eyes, they said: she has  
your hair, but you don’t see  
that light, that innocence and love  
in mirrors, that’s clear in she.


	2. Coming of age story (sonnet for Rose Lalonde)

When growing up felt like a smaller death  
She read her books and would not be disturbed  
Her mother bit her lip and held her breath  
And hoped her happiness would not be curbed  
By little words, or unrelenting silence  
Or all the things that little girls don’t fear  
Who don’t know how much more there is to violence  
Than swords and blood, who act so cavalier.

When she grew up and met death as a friend  
She understood, as she had not before  
But since it was too late to make amends  
and books would not be shelters any more  
She took the pages to her mother’s grave  
And burned them, and pretended to be brave


	3. Like making out with a dictionary (Rosemary poem)

I met a girl whose words light up like fires;  
Oh, I could sit and talk with her for hours.  
The word ‘elucidate’ spills out her mouth  
As if it were a love song just for me.  
Alliteration animates her voice  
Her consonants are sharper than her wit.  
She says I make words up, then coins her own  
’til syllables are so much gibberish.  
We quibble about grammar and we kiss:  
I feel the words that buzz beneath those lips.  
They quiver till she speaks them, and then sigh  
Like they were liberated on her tongue.  
I think about the things that tongue can do  
And words for once escape my slippery grasp.

Lips part. Teeth bump. Saliva moves and smacks:  
The noise of lovers shutting up at last.


End file.
